Wild Wild West 1. Default Chapter

Title: The Wild Wild West's Ghosts  
  
Rating: pg13  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Wild Wild West. Please don't sue or anything, I have little value or possessions. And you wouldn't want the Cat I do have, he'll tell no tales and he'll eat all your ice cream.  
  
Author's note: Warning death fic of major characters, but if they stay that way is up to you. If I give anymore away I'll spoil the plot. Hope you like my story. Reviews are appreciated, flammage is expected so be amusing when you flame. Thanks.  
  
The Night of the Wild Wild West's Ghosts  
  
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Jim carried the body with infinite care, the tears blurring his vision as they streamed down his face.  
  
Jim knew that he was nearing where he had hidden the horses and continued even though it felt like his heart was shattering and his body was going numb.  
  
The body in his arms was cold, but not yet stiff, and seemed if the person only slept deeply. But Jim knew of the blood staining the clothes hidden by the blanket, how the chocolate eyes had been wide with fear when he had found him.  
  
"Artie . . ." his mind whispered and his hold tightened on the body in his arms, the dead body of his partner Artemus Gordon.  
  
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" was chanted through the air in a low keening voice, one he barely recognized as his own. 'Artie's dead! Artie's dead!' chanted through his mind as he staggered over to the two stolen horses.  
  
Carefully he covered his best friend's face with the blanket and laid the body over the back of the horse. Then he swung onto the other horse's back, grabbed the reins, and then reached back and grabbed the other horse's reins; before starting back towards the train.  
  
Behind him, in the moonlight, a town from the past burned once more.  
  
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Jim stroked the handle of the gun, caressing it like one would a lover. Perhaps to him it was in a way, and his hands moved softly over the inscription on one side of the grip; 'To Artemus Gordon, the best partner ever. Your partner, Jim.'  
  
Jim had given Artemus the gun on his last birthday, and knew no matter the costume or part he was playing that Artie always had it somewhere on him.  
  
Jim also knew he would have never parted with it without a fight, and a very, very extensive search.  
  
He had found the gun lying three feet away from Artie's body, next to a pile of wicked "toys" one would find in a bordello, empty of bullets and covered in blood and . . . and . . .  
  
Jim put his face in his hands, the tears flowing once more. Lextriss had known about his past, and had used that info against him.  
  
His partner had been shot, stabbed, whipped , and . . .  
  
Lextriss had somehow known or found out about how his sisters and mother had died. How they'd been raped and slaughtered in the little town of Hope Haven during the war. How he had come through with his regiment to find the entire town dead and the buildings slowly burning to the ground. How he had found the bodies and had picked up each one of sisters and his mother up in turn and had rocked their lifeless bodies in his arms. How he had buried them on the outskirts of town, and how his regiment had buried the rest of the townsfolk as well. Leaving what was once a prosperous town; a lonely old graveyard. How he had left a huge piece of his soul in that lonely graveyard as well.  
  
Now he had lost the rest of his soul.  
  
Lextriss had rebuilt the town perfectly, exact replicas right down to the home his mothers and sisters had lived and died in. That was where he had found Artemus. His partner had been sprawled on the floor in the living room area where he had found his family dead. Artie had been spread eagle with his clothing ripped and bloodied, his wrists bound, and his legs spread wide.  
  
His face had been set in a mask of fear and pain, with his jaw clenched and the eyes wide with fright and unshed tears. His dark sable hair had been streaked with blood, tinting the almost auburn streaks redder.  
  
A message of unmistakable red liquid had been written on the wall.  
  
The taunt had been simple enough to solve, and Jim knew where to find him now. Once he found him, he would carry out the black rage coiled in his heart and hope it was enough to fill his thirst for revenge in the end. Maybe then he would find some semblance of peace.  
  
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Jim held the urn with deliberate care, his hazel eyes devouring the familiar writing on the letter in his other hand. Artie had left a personal letter to him, along with his will, in which he had enclosed his heart-felt expressions of hope that Jim would continue on and not blame himself.  
  
Jim's eyes softened as he read the letter, losing the look of stone he had adopted for the last few weeks since his partner had died. Silently he wished he could do as Artie's letter, but knew he couldn't in his heart.  
  
He had already begun to go against them when he had killed Lextriss in cold blood. He had already stopped his life by being suspended from the Secret Service pending an investigation, which he knew would find him guilty of murder. Murder of an unarmed man, murder that had been long and slow and torturous and unneeded.  
  
He tucked the letter into the inside pocket of his jacket, so it would be close to his heart.  
  
Quietly he headed out onto the balcony, the urn tucked into his arm. The train was speeding out West towards a little town called Green Glens. It was a town started by a group of Irish refugees who were rowdy and noisy, but also kind. They had once, kindly helped Artemus and him when they had gotten hurt on an assignment. It was there, on the outskirts of town where a canyon was, that Jim was to scatter Artie's ashes.  
  
Artie had asked for him to carry out his wishes, and Jim planned to carry out his final wish as well as carry out his own final wish.  
  
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Jim calmly lifted the engineer out of the cab and put him on Charger. He then lifted the fireman and put him on Lady. Standing back he slapped the flanks of the horses and sent them on their way. They should reach the town a few hours after dusk, or the two men would wake first. Either way they would be fine and would reach town for help. The things he wanted done would be carried out, and all the documents and inventions in the saddlebags would be used.  
  
As he walked over to the cliff's edge, he pulled the tightly sealed urn out of a bag and opened it. He slipped his fingers into the ash with reverence, aching because of how much he missed Artie, and then carefully scattered the ashes to the wind. Slowly, but surely he scattered all of Artie's ashes to the wind.  
  
The tears flowed freely as he emptied the urn and tossed it into the canyon, then turned and trudged miserably back to the engine. As he climbed back into the engine's cab, he felt a sense of calm settle over him, and began to stoke up the train's engine with wood.  
  
Jim calmly released the brake and started the train, but instead of switching over to the other track that circled around, he kept going on the track that led towards the end of the cliff. The train continued on the remaining track, picking up enough speed to keep going as the track ended then sailing over the edge.  
  
Inside the engine cab, Jim softly whispered "See you soon Artie."  
  
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Author's note: Well, here's the first chapter, and it's definitely not the end. The next chapter will be coming soon. Let me know what you think, Thanks. 


	2. The Ghost Watcher

Title: The Ghost Watcher  
  
Rating: pg13  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own. Please don't sue or anything, I have little value or possessions. And you wouldn't want the Cat I do have, he's too busy kicking the new kitten's ass.  
  
Author's note: Well, let's see if you like this chapter. You'll understand whom the lady is speaking to later. Good reading!  
  
The Ghost Watcher  
  
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She stood, watching, as the ghost of the Wanderer and it's one and only, lonely, passenger appeared for the first time.  
  
The loneliness, and overwhelming grief emanating from the ghostly train's occupant was hard to ignore. Even for her, the need to go and comfort him was strong, but . . . the rules said she could not.  
  
Nor could she turn back the hands of time to fix what had gone wrong. She could not go back and save the life of a man whom she herself had once helped raised. A man, who she had quietly watched from the shadows as he began his own journey through life, lending him a hand only when he had absolutely needed it. A man who's' journey was now over forever.  
  
So she resigned herself to waiting now, waiting like James West was, for the only four who would be allowed to set what had once gone wrong, right.  
  
For all her powers, not even the Queen of the Night could set things right. So she waited, every night returning to share the ghostly mans sorrow at the edge cliff. Waiting by day for the time to be right to end the town's ghostly train's visits. And for that she would wait for more than a hundred years.  
  
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Present Day . . . . August 24, 1987  
  
She had aged herself to fit the persona she needed. It was finally time to help the ghost of the only man her godson had ever trusted. Already she had sent a plea for help from the four men she knew could meet a ghost and not shy away.  
  
Hopefully they would help the lonely ghost, and with a little push of her own they could alter the timeline's results.  
  
She smiled softly as she watched from the shadows as the lonely Secret Service Agent wandered from his ghostly train to the edge of the cavern. Then, as it always had, his unearthly wail of pain, of grief, of loneliness, and of rage echoed through the night and struck her very heart and soul to the core.  
  
"Soon," she whispered in the dark, " Very soon, Agent West, you may get your second chance to fix the wrongs. Maybe this time you can protect the man I practically considered my own son, and the man you considered more than even just a best friend."  
  
She walked away silently from the cliff as he turned to make his nightly reenactment of his suicide. A single tear slid down her cheek as she slipped away in the shadows. Just another ghost in the dark, waiting for a different freedom from a different cage.  
  
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Author's notes: All right, a short and sweet second chapter to tie people over who are actually interested in the story and read it. Let's see, the first one to e-mail me and guess who the four mysterious "helpers" are will get to read the third chapter two days in advance. Thanks. 


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Wild Wild West